So, I had my spa day on Saturday. And it was fabulous.
The first thing I had done was a facial. Now, getting a facial can be kind of a disconcerting experience. Basically because they blow hot steamy air directly in your airstream the whole time, wrap your face up in hot towels with only your nose poking out, shine bright lights on you and perform "extractions" (which is a fancy way to say "pop your zits), smear cream on your face with a warning that it may "tingle" but if it starts to "burn" to give a shout out, and make semi-reassuring declarations that your skin doesn't look "that bad".
So, in other words, you kind of feel like you're suffocating while someone pinches your face and insults you.
But, if you can get through all that, a facial is truly lovely. My best advice is to just surrender to the experience. Otherwise you might panic, and trust me - nobody's going to hear your muffled screams under all those hot towels.
After my facial, I was signed up for a massage. Now, I've never had a massage before, except that one time I had a prenatal massage when I was pregnant with Ashley. And that one was kind of lame because the lady masseuse kept telling me she couldn't use too much pressure or else it might put me in labor. Which was kind of weird, because it's not like I was asking her to massage my cervix or anything. But whatever.
So, I was kind of nervous about getting the massage in general, but also because I was scheduled with a dude masseuse. And you know, getting all naked and oily in a room with candles and soft music is something I don't normally do with a guy unless he's bought me a drink first. But what can you do.
So the dude comes to get me, and I look like a fright because the facial lady had already had her way with me. He takes me in the room, explains how it will all work, and then steps out so I can get naked and under the sheets on the table. Now let me tell you, it was quite complicated getting on that table. He had left me with explicit instructions to lie face down, under the sheets, with my ankles hanging over this ankle roll thingy under the covers. However, the ankle roll thingy was all the way at the end of the table. So there I was, tucked under the covers, face in the face hole contraption, searching desperately with my feet to track down this ankle thingy, getting more and more discombobulated by the second. Then he knocked and said "Ready?" and no I was NOT ready but what do you say at that point other than "Come in," so that's what I said.
Anyway, this guy was AMAZING. A.MAZ.ING. I swear to God, I've had back pain since I was pregnant with Ashley, and I don't know what this dude did, but I have felt WONDERFUL ever since I left. It felt like he was pushing the muscles in my back back between the right bones, which probably makes no medical sense but that's why I'm a lawyer not a doctor. Anyway, it was great.
After he was finished I said "Thank you" and then felt kind of dirty. Going to a salon to pay a man to oil me up and rub me down...the whole thing is weird, if you think about it too much. Which of course I always do.
Anyway, after the massage Brandi and I had a glass of champagne, which we had to drink on the sly since the state apparently does not allow liquor in beauty salons. I kind of felt like I needed a cigarette too, but Brandi didn't have any of those.
Then it was off to the pedicure/manicure portion of the day, which was much more pleasant for my psyche. I got french on my fingers and an earthy brown color on my toes. Love it.
By the time I got home, 5 hours had passed and I was a greasy, oily, very relaxed little lady. Scott went out with friends that night so I just laid on the couch and watched a marathon of all the Oprah's I recorded that week. (Roseanne Barr is funny. So is Debbie Reynolds. Ilyana whoever is weird, and she wears very swishy earrings. And I am very glad I don't have a 7 year old who has tried to kill me with a kitchen knife.)
All in all, it was an extremely girly, relaxing, oily day. No smoothies though. Oh well - you can't have everything. ;-)